25 #StoryADayMay #Caturday The Beckoning Cat

Today’s story got odder than I expected. The fabulous Christine Campbell has been doing Story A Day, too, and she’s been all about a pint of milk, so some of that leaked over onto my story. On Facebook, somebody posted a beautiful picture of a cat that seemed to be beckoning, and the multitalented Andrea Gilbey suggested it as a prompt. So, the following:

The Beckoning Cat

by Marian Allen

Dee eased her metal walking frame through the back door and onto the porch. If she fell again, her son would put her in a Home for her own good, in spite of the CareFree Alert necklace she had to wear 24/7. Good or no good, she wanted to squeeze out as many days here as she could, the way she squeezed out every possible penny of her government check.

What she was doing now wasn’t an extravagance. Not really. She only bought milk a pint at a time, these days, but she still couldn’t use it all before it went bad. Wasting food was a sin, with so many people hungry; so she’d been taught, and so she believed.

So, when a gray-and-white tabby had begun showing up in the yard of an evening (probably a feral cat, she thought, living in the woods beyond her suburb), she had taken to leaving a bit of milk in a saucer for it. She left it up here, on the porch, on the wide shelf with her scarlet geraniums, and she propped the screen door open just wide enough for a cat to slip through.

The cat came every evening, and the milk was gone every morning. She supposed it was the cat who drank it, though her Irish grandmother, Mama Deidre, for whom she was named, used to leave a dish of milk for the fairies every night.

This evening, though, the cat stood much closer than it usually did. This evening, it stood at the bottom edge of the ramp that led from the porch door to the back walk. It placed a paw on the ramp, then lifted the paw, pads toward itself, in a human gesture of beckoning. It did it again. And again.

Dee trembled all over, a signal she recognized as her body telling her it was about to lose strength. She backed up to a chair and lowered her fragile bones into it just as her legs gave way.

This was happening more often lately. It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to make use of that long-term care policy her son had been paying for for so long.

She closed her eyes until the dizziness passed and what strength she had returned to her limbs. Back on her feet, she looked for the cat. It was exactly where it had been. It beckoned again.

Well, time was short and life was fleeting. One last adventure, be it filled with grace or horror.

Dee considered writing a note to let her son know where she’d gone in case she didn’t come back, but decided to just go.

She inched out the door and down the ramp, not wanting to end the escapade within touching distance of the house.

The cat trotted away for a few steps, then turned and motioned with its paw in that oddly human gesture.

She followed into the premature twilight of the woods, where fireflies had already risen and crickets tuned up for the night.

Moving was strangely easy now. The path beneath her walker and her feet seemed smooth yet not slippery. The cat led her to a clearing where a dozen or more other cats waited. The air shimmered, and in place of the cats stood as many small people, with wide-set eyes and pointed ears, dressed in beautiful clothes. Dee’s visitor-cat was a woman in a flowing gray dress trimmed with silver, so delicate it might have been made of cobwebs and moonlight.

One final time, she raised a hand and beckoned Dee forward. With each step, Dee became smaller and stronger, until she left the walker behind and faced the small woman eye-to-eye.

The cobweb cat spoke in a voice like honey. “Never let it be said we don’t pay our debts. Your milk has been well worth the price you paid for it.”

A woman dressed in orange and gold held a large mirror of polished silver where Dee could see herself in it. She saw her younger self: strong, with skin of peaches and cream, and hair like spun copper. Her gown was of blackberry and bittersweet trimmed in milky white.

As she joined hands with her new family, she wondered if her son would find her, cold and free, in a chair on the back porch, or if he’d find an empty house and a mystery.

That thought flickered away like one of the evening fireflies, and Dee knew only joy.

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I was born in Louisville, Kentucky, but now live in the woods in southern Indiana. Though I only write fiction, I love to read non-fiction. The more I learn about this world, the more fantastic I see it is.
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One thought on “25 #StoryADayMay #Caturday The Beckoning Cat”

What a lovely story. I sensed the cat was leading her toward something magical, and you did not disappoint. I had a smile when I finished the read. I hope the son found her on the back porch with a smile on her face.Maryann Miller would love to share..Friday’s Odds and Ends

I love this!!! What a great story! Ooh, what I would give to find out what the son found! Yet, it seems to end just the way it should. I hope I can do that some day…Jen Christopherson would love to share..Dunt-da-da! Blaw-awg!!!

That means a lot to me, coming from a good cat-daddy like you. 🙂 If my brain doesn’t leak too badly between now and then, I’ll join the carnival!Marian Allen would love to share..18 #StoryADayMay #Caturday Cats’ Cradle

What a beautiful story!! The story kept me glued till the last. I loved the ending of the story. and yes it made me smile like never before. Hats off to you, for bringing smiles on the faces of your readers. Kudos!!!!

This is such a touching story and I love the way the you have drafted the plot. Animals and Human emotions are quite similar in some contexts and it is just amazing to learn more about them. Great share.

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Welcome to my site!

I've been a writer since I could think, and a cook since I was in middle school. I'm also an inveterate this-and-thatter. So this blog, which is supposed to be professional, kind of isn't. I blog about anything I damn well please. Oh--and food. Don't forget the food.